Too much happened last night.
It’s 7am and pouring. Both dogs are glaring at me like “You’re a bad owner. Can I go out now or is that spot on the carpet calling my name?”
So I take them out, knowing that the “why am I wet?” attitude is coming.
We run outside. Both dogs look at me like, “WHY IS IT RAINING? MAKE IT STOP!”
Well, great.
My blackberry’s broadband service disappeared on me so I trekked to the suburbs1 to the Sprint repair center.
I arrive, explain my problem, and I am told that unfortunately, my blackberry has to be reformatted. I suspect this is what happens whenever they don’t want to spend the time figuring out what the real problem is…but I shrug and ask them to save my contacts.
Since the reformatting would take 15-20 minutes, I fetched a magazine from OfficeMax and shuffled to the McDonald’s next door.
25 minutes and 1,500 calories later, I walk into the Sprint store and meet a very sad looking customer service rep.
I hung out with Jorde tonight. I keep a set of Miami-transplant friends in Minneapolis because they remind me that I am not, in fact, crazy. Call us snotty, but we don’t wear tennis shoes with dress pants, or eat at nightclubs.
The adjustment to Minneapolis was easier for me than it was for my Miami friends up here, mostly because I spent 12 years in Wichita. Although I do occasionally rock some Calle Ocho/Lincoln road tacky, like bright pink shirts.
And yes, there’s a blurry blackberry picture of that:
It is raining. I am walking the dogs. So of course I have both leashes in one hand, my blackberry in the other, and a golf umbrella balanced between my cheek and my shoulder.
That’s when I run into my new neighbor, McDreamy, who has some sort of husky mix.
Between the phone, the leashes and the umbrella, I am awkwardly juggling too many things and trying my best not to drop anything. McDreamy wants the dogs to meet but I avoid eye contact because I need to focus on keeping Gertrude from lunging at the husky. She lurches forward and yelps. I almost drop the umbrella.
I look awkward. My dog looks vicious. It’s a giant swagger fail…and I blame her:
Tyler and I met at Wilde Roast yesterday after work. Tyler and I must be chatty-cathys because I look down at my watch and it’s somehow two hours later and I am 20 minutes late for picking up Roby at the Mall of America… woops.
I excuse myself, zip across town to the Mall, and beg Roby to forgive me for being on Miami time. Roby forgives me after a few bribes and we drive back to the city for $1 beverage night at Lush Bar.
Wednesday nights start at Lush because it has a video bar and the place is slow enough to have a conversation without screaming. So Roby and I stood and gossiped, watched Toni Braxton’s new botox video, and I had the pleasure of introducing Roby to Brett, one of my favorite people.
Roby and I then skipped over to the Townhouse bar in St. Paul.
Townhouse is a lesbian/drag bar right across from a Wal-Mart that also hosts a $1 beverage night on Wednesdays. I love going to the Townhouse on Wednesdays because the people watching …is amazing. Behold:
Roby wore plaid, and with so many lesbians in the crowd, of course he had a twin!
And, like every week, there was a tragic hot mess that we need to discuss, but the pictures are after the jump because she is NOT WORK APPROPRIATE. Let’s see…
There was some sort of gay softball event at the Minneapolis Eagle. The Eagle was so packed that moving around felt like diving in an over-cologned mosh pit, so Zach, Matt and I stayed in the video bar where it was safe.
Roby was also at the Eagle that night playing paparazzi. Here are some of his shots:
I started walking the krakens around Lake of the Isles after our car disaster.
It’s a gorgeous walk:
She’s from finals, but I forgot to post the picture here:
It’s late. Matt, Brett, Hair, Swan, and I are outside of Jetset bar. Brent and Hair are smoking. Hair looks bored. Matt wants to leave.
I leave the group to go to the restroom. When I come back outside I see Alig out of the corner of my eye.
Alig is your run-of-the-mill1 skeezy club rat, sort of like the club kids in Party Monster, except this is Minneapolis so half the time Alig is in track shoes and ill fitting shorts.
Reputation-wise, Alig is the equivalent of WMD or Pig Pen from the Peanuts: the tragic hot mess of the city who will soil anyone he talks to like broken septic tank. Behold:
It’s 1am. Phillip and I are in the car, zipping around downtown Minneapolis. I ramble: “…tomorrow I will go out less, crack down, stay home and focus. From now on. Seriously.”
Phillip lets me ramble, but doesn’t believe it.
This was another cluttered week of work, exercise, dating, and reconnecting with long-neglected friends. Pictures!
Oh everything is absolutely fabulous and I will write shortly.
I have the same problem that Truman Capote and Oscar Wilde had: it is hard to both live life (while being present) and write about the life you’re living.
But I am here to make a quick addition to my list of the types guys that I date. To review, so far we have:
I am not sure if either of us knows what is going on.
Morbid obesity came around this morning.
Morbid Obesity: “Knock, knock!”
Me: “Who is it?”
Morbid Obesity: “Morbid obesity is a-knocking.”
Me: “I AM NOT HOME!”
Morbid Obesity: “Oh the hell you aren’t! I can hear them jelly rolls jiggling behind the curtains! Precious!”
Me: “Fine. But you are out of my life. Love don’t live here no more!”
Morbid Obesity: “That’s not what your bellah told me.”
Me: “I am working on it!”
Morbid Obesity: “Oh the hell you are! Between the record-breaking heat and the rain, you haven’t done cardio in FOUR DAYS!”
Me: “Today is the day!”
Morbid Obesity: “…for muffin top!”
Me: “GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I AM CALLING THE COPS!”
So to spite morbid obesity, I skated 12 miles around the lakes after work today. Thelakes are fabulous . There were the usual picnickers, swimmers, cute babies, studs, and concerts…
I need a FAQ page on this blog. I usually respond to questions via twitter, but my new readers keep asking the same question: “Why don’t you write more about dating or work?”
My answer: discretion. This blog is fun, but not sloppy.
Contrary to popular belief, there is a filter here…well, sort of. One trick I learned as a resident assistant in undergrad is that clean living is the simplest way to avoid projecting dirt, so I try not to do anything that I would have a problem with broadcasting on the world wide inter-web.1
That means that there is less to filter, which my life easier, because filter refills are expensive…
I look outside, it looks like rain, but I want to walk the dogs around lake Calhoun, so I check weather.com.
Weather.com says 0% chance of rain.
I look outside again. It looks like the storm before the kraken, but weather.com says 0% chance of rain so I TRUST THE INTERNETS and drive the dogs to the lake. If weather.com had said 1% chance of rain I would not have gone out, but ZERO percent chance…well…I can’t question that!
The skies look so bad on the way to the lake that I expect Nicolas Cage to hop out of a building and give a dead-pan account of how “supernatural whatsits were coming to take over the who-hah…” And of course, the second we get to the lake:
Fail.
I check weather.com on my blackberry. It says 75% chance of rain, plague, and pestilence. I feel like an idiot.
And then Harley glares at me like, “OKAY, FOOL, I NEED TO PEE. BEHOLD MY DROOL.”
And after much fretting, I finally take them out. It rains harder just to spite me. Nicolas Cage warned me of this but no…
After our walk on the set of Umbrella, Harley gives me another glare like, “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE ME OUTSIDE IN THAT BULLSHIT? BAD OWNER! BAD!”
Ugh. I’m damned if I do…
And I am not taking them to Lake Calhoun anymore because it took far too long to clean the back seat of my car after these two hot-shedding-messes…ugh. Never again.
Amber ended law school on a high note:
Me: “You finished! Congrats! How does it feel to finish law school?”
Amber: “I…I don’t know. I don’t feel anything…”
Me: “Excitement?”
I walk into Dunn Brothers before work this morning and there is a tall barista who I have never seen before. The hulking Barista looks surprised:
Hulk: “Wow! You smell great! What are you wearing?”
Me: “Oh thanks, it’s Abercrombie.”
Hulk: “Is it Fierce?”
Me: “Why yes, it is fierce.”
Hulk: “I like it! I just wish they would bring back the original Abercrombie scent, you know, the one from when we were both in high school!”
Me: “Uh, when were you in high school?”
Hulk: “Mid to late 90’s…”
Me: “I’m not that old.”
See, in law school Saturdays are off the chain. Behold:
How do I contain myself? Someone call Lindsay…
